Week Two Afterparty: For the people who are Still Alive

[literalidiotball]

That afternoon could not be more confusing.

Not only was the witch who called herself Yuuko a fake, but it turned out the witch who communicated through bird and notes was none other than one of the pieces. And the suffering... Oh, the suffering...

At least nobody else died for now...🗈

In spite of the lack of death, Wheatley was about as shaken up as everyone else. If he wasn't sure he was going to die here before, he is definitely certain now.

But he wasn't going to try and let it get to him. Even if he kind of wished he could consume things in the real world, he's still clinging to the small victory they had in sparing everyone.

On that note, he had the goats prepare a feast, turning the dining room table into a buffet table. There was turkey, fish, granola bars, fish shaped crackers, a giant bowl of frosted flakes, Macaroni and cheese with chunks of fish, fish shaped granola bars... Look, Wheatley didn't quite understand what humans liked to eat at these things, but at least it looks professional.

There's even a large cake in the center of the table. It's covered in chocolate frosting, strawberries, and has a lovely message written in bold white frosting: "WE SURVIVED".

Comments

[respring]

[ She waits an hour or two before she seeks him out, just to give him a little time to process everything. But when she does, she comes knocking on his door with...cupcakes? It's a few simple-looking cupcakes on a plate.

They have wine in them. How thoughtful. ]

Holmes-san...? It's Sakura. Can we talk, for a bit?

[improbablenotimpossible]

Come in.

[Came the voice, odd - given the time that passed, it should sound slurred but it's still clear, if hoarse]

[respring]

[ Huh. Didn't he retreat here with a drink? Then again, the fictional Holmes....really liked his elicit substances...maybe he just has a high tolerance. ]

Good evening. Um, I just wanted to check in on you.

[ presents the plate ]

[improbablenotimpossible]

[He looks up from his the desk, the bottle has yet to be opened - though the window was, a lit cigarette was between his fingers of his off hand, looking as though he was in deep in thought before she arrived. Holmes turns in his seat to look at her]

...Ah, thank you Miss Matou. I'll be all right, I'll have my moods and then I'll be more like myself.